Genre: Alternative Universe – Space Age
Rating: R – For really bad swearing and adult situations… yes, especially from the Titans.
Summary: Space Cargo Guarding was getting old for Robin. He loved space, but surely there were better things to look forward to than getting to the other side of the stargate. Man-oh-man, was he right...
Standard disclaimers apply.
THE MIGHTY TITAN
Chapter Three – 5742fire
It was brilliant, like a hundred suns bursting forth from the darkness, despair and desolation.
Well of course, on hindsight, Robin may have considered such thoughts a tad melodramatic, but in the face of certain death, Robin found that salvation always burned brighter than it actually was.
Nevertheless, the explosion of light around them was a spectacle worthy of the heavens. With every shimmering ball released, there followed a sound, like the magical chime of a thousand tiny bells. Bits of earth, glittering smoke and shades of green danced above him and as the crack on Raven's blackened shield dissolved around them, Robin had a distinct feeling that they might actually live to see tomorrow, or at least the next few minutes.
Another round of explosive fire rose around their perimeter and the spray of soil flew outward, pelting the crowd. Robin saw Terra's eyes light with yellow-hot kinetic fury, protecting them from the sharp pebbles and directing the flight of every bit to the mob. After the effort, she gasped, falling to her knees beside Raven.
The smoke, dust and dirt enfolding them was as thick as Dynamene Swamp Soup, impeding his vision and making even his companions barely visible. He squinted through the gritty fog, trying to see what had caused all the chaos.
"What the hell was that?" he heard Terra say.
He didn't know what to tell her.
There was a moan, like the cry of a hundred corpses, and amidst the cacophony of panicked Thelsor-Con goers, he knew that the sound was coming from Raven, her black glow potent enough to suck away all things good and cheerful. She was breathing rapidly, uneasily, and her moans were slowly turning into one terrifying scream.
It sent a column of cold through Robin and all the horror movies that ever scared him as a child came into memory.
"Holy shit…" said Terra, grabbing Robin by the arm to hoist herself to her feet. "Speaking of hell…"
The cloud of smoke suddenly parted and Robin beheld a site so astounding that he forgot they were still virtually in the middle of an angry mob.
It was 5742, muddied still from head to toe except for the hazy line of raw flesh visible around her neck where the subduing collar used to be. She strode purposefully to Raven's side, took wrist and bracelet in her grip, and ripped the gadget apart by sheer brute force.
The metal cracked and sparks began to shoot out of the torn casing. The crunch and snap of its wiring was audible even through the surrounding noise, or maybe Robin was so focused on the astonishing events happening right before his eyes that it was all he was hearing.
The moment the bracelet's circuits died, the horrible darkness embracing Raven fell away and her breathing evened almost instantly. The drone of dead voiced faded into memory and she looked up at 5742, awestricken.
Terra recovered first. "Me! Free me!" she cried, holding her bracelet out towards 5742.
5742 nodded, twisting Terra's bracelet off her with hardly a grunt.
Terra laughed. "Girl, those six hundred karnan decs just saved our lives!"
"Five hundred," 5742 suddenly said with a cheerful grin, her white teeth gleaming against her mud-sullied face. "A hundred of them were counterfeit. I could tell. They were badly done fakes."
Robin glared at Raven, shaking his head disapprovingly.
Raven glared back, rising to her feet. "Call me names later. Right now, we have to get out of here."
Robin had no intention of calling her names. In fact, he didn't want anything to do with Raven at that point, but there were matters at that moment that were more pressing than imagining Raven stuffed in a pod he could shoot to the far reaches of the delta quadrant.
A body jumped through the smoke, four axes held high.
Jihlava, thought Robin, seeing the strange extended flesh, like tiny tentacles, dangling from the alien's chin. Jihlavaians had four arms, two on each side of his body, and there was no mistaking them when one saw them. Robin was only too glad to recognize the species. It was easier to fight them that way.
Robin twirled his bo-staff and knocked two axes off his aggressor's grips just as Robin's foot connected with one side of his body, just beneath the Jihlavaian's armpit. The Jihlavaian dropped all his axes in pain, doubling over on his side and crumpling to his knees. Kicking them on the side was equivalent to kicking a human in the nuts. Robin grinned.
An Ildonian alien, humanoid but for his cobalt-blue skin, appeared through the clearing brandishing a laser gun and dagger, both of which were aimed at Robin.
Robin crouched to avoid laser fire, thrusting his bo-staff upward and catching the Ildonian right in the chest, pushing the breath out of him. Robin shot up and buried his shoulder into the alien's gut, bowling him into his Ildonian companions. The entire group fell back with a surprised yell.
Robin felt his pulse beat and realized that he could actually enjoy himself, seeing as the smoke and debris, not to mention the freedom given his companions, had evened out the odds, but he knew, with certainty that he didn't want to cause death and destruction, especially if they were to blame for the angry mob in the first place. Knowing the power wielded by the three women with him, he knew that all together, they could be devastating. With two kinetics and one flying fire-starter on his side, nobody stood a chance in hell.
"Terra! Let's get out of here!" said Robin.
Terra smiled. "Right, chief!" She turned a knob attached to her ear and the bio-plastic goggles formed over her eyes, fitting perfectly over the contours of her face. She turned her gloved hands over, palms up, and raised her arms. The earth beneath her and Robin rose off the ground, lifting them into the air.
Robin crouched forward, bracing himself.
Raven and 5742 rose into the air beside them, and seconds later, they shot off, leaving the chaos and mayhem behind.
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The best thing, of course, about the T-Craft was its auto-tracking capabilities. Because it was a tiny, space-worthy craft that found its home within the Mighty Titan, it seemed appropriate to name it after the smallest moon of Saturn: Telesto. But there was no glamour in calling it the Tiny Telesto, so they called it the T-Craft, and everyone, probably even the half-sentient computer inside it, seemed happier for the fact, because it never failed them and it was, in a sad, mechanical way, as lovable as a puppy; one that didn't need to be walked out to poop.
Robin summoned the T-Craft with his long-range remote well ahead of reaching the Ssilithis docking lot they parked it in. As they passed the lot in full kinetic speed, the craft came roaring up behind them. Robin and Terra could not help but gaze at it with affection. It was always in good condition, always shiny and immaculately clean. It was the crew's pet; everyone contributed to its maintenance and they would see no harm come to it, so when, out of nowhere, half a dozen Thelsor-Con Peacekeepers, glittering in their silver over-alls and helmets, un-peacefully began shooting at them with laser guns and consequently busting a tail light, Robin and Terra swerved around in fury.
"Alright, who the hell did that?" Terra demanded.
Of course, their pursuers weren't about to answer, neither were they particularly intimidated by a puny, seventeen year old, perky little blonde.
Robin growled. "You are so going to be sorry you did that!" He reached into his pockets and was dismayed to remember that he had left his utility disks at the gate. But undeterred and fueled by protective rage, Robin jumped fearlessly from his floating clump of earth and into the air, crashing full-bodied against one of the Peacekeepers. Robin knocked him off his mono-craft and sent him crashing to the ground in a rolling heap. Robin then slid open the T-Craft hatch with the remote and jumped through it with acrobatic grace, turning the mono-craft loose and sending it hurtling to the other Peacekeepers in pursuit. The unmanned mono-craft rammed against one of the Peacekeepers with a sickening crunch, but the rest were far back enough to avoid it. They swerved, leapt and shot past their fallen comrades, intent only on staying on the chase.
Understandably, Thelsor-Con rabidly protected the ethics of trade, or else the integrity of the entire market could be put to question. There was no doubt about it; the Peacekeepers were not about to let them go easy.
Robin spun the T-Craft around, powering up his pulse canons, but before he could gather enough power to fire, three masses of energy, one black, one yellow and the last green, shot out from behind him, crashing against three other Peacekeepers. The mass of earth Terra had thrown scattered into clumps as it hit mono-craft and driver, head-on.
Raven had used what seemed like a trash receptacle, using its heavy, iron-hard body and tossing it against another Peacekeeper and his vehicle. Having seen the massive projectile, the Peacekeeper had jumped off his mono-craft and watched from the ground as the heavy hunk of metal annihilated his transport.
The green star-bolts were powered balls of fire all their own, and firing two consecutive shots took out one more Peacekeeper but missed the other. 5742 did not take kindly to her miss. She zipped forward with aggressive determination, shooting lasers from her eyes to blast the gun from her opponent's hand and swooping down to grab him by the arm. She lifted him off his seat with him screaming to be let go, so she did, dumping him on a pile of bad fish.
It was the last of the Peacekeepers and Robin found himself, along with Terra, Raven and 5742, eerily alive.
It occurred to Robin then that 5742 had, in fact, saved their lives, and that some higher power had had a hand in it. Of course, there was Raven who seemed to bring nothing but misfortune. Such was his life; a bunch of off-sets to make everything neutral. He had to admit that while he hated the boredom neutrality brought, he had suddenly developed a pragmatic dislike of having too much excitement. He wondered momentarily if he actually liked the action; just that he didn't like being called a drug-dealer, swindler and thief.
Robin opened the hatch above and Terra slid to the passenger seat beside him. They looked up while Raven and 5742 looking down on them.
Raven's blank stare seemed expectant. 5742's gaze was on him.
Again, he tried not to be so disconcerted by her intense stare. "What are you two waiting for? With the fuss we caused at Thelsor-Con, no one's going to want us in Karna for very long. I ain't got all day."
"Are you going to let us both into the ship?" asked Raven.
Robin thought that a valid question coming from her. He had every reason to take off without her, leaving her to the eager hands of Thelsor-Con Peacekeepers, but he figured there was hardly any need for cruelty. He was in Karna and he had picked up Raven's cargo. There was nothing to do but take her and her cargo out of Karna with them.
He arched an eyebrow, pointing a finger at 5742. "Her I'm definitely taking with us. You, I'm not so sure. I'll think about it, but in the meantime, get in the goddamn craft. We have no time for this drama."
Raven got in, grumbling, but 5742 stayed suspended in the air.
"I am dirty," she explained.
"That, you are," said Robin. "But get in, anyway. Telesto here doesn't mind getting a little mud tracked into it, don't you, boy?"
A series of beeps answered. It wasn't really an intelligent reply of any kind. The craft made such sounds on a regular basis, but they knew the T-Craft's pulses so well that given the right timing, they could make it so that it seemed Telesto was answering their inquiries. He wasn't the only one who did it. Every crew member in the Mighty Titan gave life to the T-Craft one way or another. Cyborg was perhaps the worse of them when it came to treating Telesto like a living thing. He would, of course, never admit it.
"See?" said Robin as if he had just proven his point.
5742 pursed her lips, but Robin could have sworn he heard a giggle coming from her. Gingerly, she drifted down beside Raven who immediately told the girl, "Just don't sit on my robe. You're filthy."
5742 looked a tad ashamed. "I will try…"
Terra frowned. "Don't be such a witch, Raven!"
"Your opinion matters little to me, cabin-girl."
Robin growled as he closed the hatch and drove off at full-speed. They may have done away with the Peacekeepers, but they needed to get out of the planet fast. He had no time to referee cat fights and he wished they would all just shut up.
Terra snorted, too caught up in telling Raven off to think about anything else. "You were the one who was all insecure. 'Oh, Robin, are you going to let us on the ship? Because I know I've been baaaad.'" She had made her voice sound whiny and petulant, which of course didn't sound like Raven at all, but it was meant to annoy her, and it worked to an extent.
"I do not sound like that."
"Then stop pretending you don't care."
"I don't."
"Please," 5742 suddenly said. "Do not fight."
Her intercession surprised them a bit, because up until them, the only things she said was in reply to any one of them. This was the first time she spoke of her own volition; not that they didn't want her to speak, but slaves tended to keep to themselves, docile and subservient, because they had gotten used to it, so hearing her speak her own mind, however peaceable the subject matter, was strange.
Of course, Robin later figured that if 5742 could manage to get herself out of her dampening collar and then come back through the city to save them, then of course, she could speak her mind. The only conundrum remaining was: Why wasn't she acting like a slave at all?
"5742," said Robin. "What's your name?"
"I have been given many of them."
He arched an eyebrow. "Well, what was the name your parents gave you?"
"I am your slave. You could give me any name you wish."
His words shocked her, even if it shouldn't have. "You aren't—look, let's get one thing clear: I may have technically bought you, but you aren't my slave. I just bought you to get you out of there… it wasn't even my money."
"It was my money," said Raven.
5742 looked at her. "So you are my master?"
Whatever Raven was going to say, Robin didn't wait to find out. He cut in, frowning. "You don't have a master. You're free. You're not a slave anymore."
"Then turn me lose."
Robin was about to say that he would be very willing to do that when Raven cut in, much like he did a moment ago.
"I would request you to stay with us until the next port outside of the Karnan space coast. There's something I want to talk about with you. It's important."
Terra harrumphed. "You better 'grant' her request. Last time somebody said no to her, she got them thrown in jail and neutered."
Robin shot Terra a glare and Terra stuck her tongue out at him. He saw 5742's eyes widen like saucers and it compelled Robin to tell her that Terra was merely joking.
"Right, Terra?" he said through grit teeth.
Terra crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. "Well someone got de-balled."
"Terra, I am not in the mood."
Raven's lips tightened to an irate line before she spoke again. "So will you stay with us?"
5742 thought a moment before she nodded. "I will."
Raven seemed satisfied and she sat back in silence.
The rest of the trip remained uneventful and Robin was thinking only of getting out off Karna, completely forgetting that he had wanted to know 5742's name.
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When Robin drove the craft into the Mighty Titan's loading dock, he ordered Cyborg and Beast Boy, none too gently, to get the ship ready for take-off. When Robin barked and stormed his orders the way he did, none of the crewmembers questioned his authority. And even if their eyes fell curiously on their mud-covered cargo, they made no inquiries. They figured they could ask Terra about her later when Robin had cooled down.
It was Raven who took 5742 aside, saying that she would take care of the slave girl, and clothe her.
Robin refrained from asking where Raven got the clothes. The dark kinetic had, officially, ceased to surprise him.
They shot out of the planet in record time, taking the quickest route to the stargate. Fortunately, the roughies who had attacked them earlier as they approached Karna still had the skill of the Mighty Titan's fighting abilities freshly imprinted in their memories and the Mighty Titan was left to go about its own business. They still encountered hostile crafts, but in Robin's state of agitation, he had the crew deal with the nuisances with ferocious efficiency, which meant Beast Boy had no leeway to clown around, so they got the job done faster.
Only after they scanned past the exit stargate did Robin allow himself and the entire crew to relax.
Locking the controls in autopilot, he summoned his crew to his office, which doubled as a conference room on occasion. Without a word of protest, the crew complied.
Cyborg handed Robin back his Trans-Card and Robin thanked him for it.
"Almost forgot about it," he said, tucking it inside the breast-pocket of his surcoat.
As Robin sat behind his desk, adjusting the picture he had of Karna sitting on his desktop; everyone waited for him to begin.
"Okay. So Raven paid for the slave in six hundred karnan decs, one hundred of which seemed to have been counterfeit," said Robin in a matter of fact tone.
Cyborg and Beast Boy groaned in exasperation. They began talking at the same time, going along the lines of how Raven would one day soon going to get them all killed, or worse, arrested. A bit screwed up as their priorities in life were, Robin let them talk it out. At least Terra was silent. She had removed her glove and was picking at her nails.
"And now we have another stranger on the ship," said Cyborg pointedly. "How long is it going to take before she starts making trouble?"
Robin shrugged. "I don't know, but she at least saved our lives without blackmailing us." He proceeded to tell them what happened in the Thelsor-Con proper.
Beast Boy and Cyborg were amazed.
"So she's alright?" asked Beast Boy.
Robin shook his head, cocking a grimace. "I don't know. Maybe she was just grateful we got her out of there. Maybe now she thinks she owes us nothing, and that could be dangerous, especially with her. She's got some powerful shit, going."
Terra nodded, wide-eyed. "Yeah. You should've seen it, BB! There were green lights and explosions everywhere and—wow! It was amazing!"
"What species did you say she was?" asked Cyborg.
"Tamaranian."
Cyborg arched an eyebrow. "They don't fire bolts… we've dealt with many Tamaranians before, Rob. We know they don't fire bolts."
"She does."
Cyborg still looked skeptical, but he didn't say anything more.
"What are we going to do now?" asked Beast Boy.
"Well, I have to talk to Raven about that, but seeing as she had no objection to going through the stargate and back to the Euphorix space coast, I think this course will do for the meantime. Maybe I could book us a quick pick-up and drop along the way—"
He was cut short by the soft beep of his communicator. He picked it up and saw to his surprise that Raven was trying to contact him. Brows knotted in confusion, he answered it. "Raven?"
"Captain, we're right outside your office. May we come in?"
"You could have just knocked, you know."
"Well, I've been—well, naughty... to put it mildly."
Robin thought that a spectacular understatement.
"I didn't want to get yelled at for knocking. You were in such a bad mood earlier," she said.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my emotions?"
"It doesn't take an empath to know you're cranky, captain."
"Whatever. Just come right in. You've wasted enough time." He cut off their communications and slipped his communicator back into his belt.
The door to his office slid open and Raven drifted in, sitting herself in the airspace at the corner of the room. Right behind her was a woman who looked nothing like the muddied 5742 they rescued from Thelsor-Con.
She was tall; that was evident even with the mud, but all cleaned up she looked statuesque, distinct. Her rich, red hair flowed down to her waist, springing into slight waves when she turned her head one way or another. It went well with the gold hue of her skin, rivaled only by the striking quality of her large green eyes.
In her slave sack, she looked thin and decrepit, but dressed in what looked like clothes that were actually madefor her, there was definitely a shape to her, especially where it mattered most. The capped sleeves of her purple shirt showed off the armband Lenny had spoken off, though hers was unbranded. Then stemming from her—
Fantastically hot pants, thought Robin, dazed.
--were legs that went on forever. Her thick brown utility boots came up above her knees in a series of complicated belts and buckles. What little skin was left by shorts and boots was enough to send one's imagination running wild.
After Robin got over the initial shock of seeing this woman on his ship, he blinked his brain back into high gear and frowned. "Well, you cleaned up pretty well…" She was staring at him again, and this time, he found himself staring back. Something about the girl was nagging at him, and he didn't know exactly what it was. He tilted his head, as if it would help him understand what the sensation was. "Do I… do I know you from some place?"
Beast Boy's eyebrow arched. "Captain, with all due respect, you already bought her. You could ix-nay the cheesy pick-up lines. Know what I mean?"
Robin shot Beast Boy a deadly glare before he let his eyes fall on 5742 again. There was definitely something about her that he recognized.
5742 smiled plaintively. "That is Karna."
At first, her words didn't register in Robin's mind. He blinked in astonishment, recovering with a raise of his eyebrow. "What?"
She pointed a finger at the picture on his table. "That is Karna."
Something inexorable came stumbling into his brain; a familiar thought; a long-cherished memory; an image of bright, captivating green eyes. It turned circles, tumbled, jumbled and swirled until suddenly, it stopped; it solidified and finally flashed, full frontal, in his mind.
His jaw dropped and he unwittingly rose to his feet as he stared at 5742.
She grinned, as if she understood the shock on his face.
Terra, as perplexed as everyone, looked at her captain anxiously then at 5742. "Did we miss something…?
The young Systems Coordinator's voice snapped Robin to his senses. His facial expression hardened to its usual unrelenting confidence. He looked at them, one by one, before his gaze fell on Raven. Her expression told him nothing of what she was thinking at the moment.
He thought it hardly mattered. He decided that he was throwing them all out of the room, anyway. "Everyone but the 5742, get out."
Terra and Beast Boy blinked in surprise. Cyborg's eyebrow arched questioningly. Robin caught the look but ignored it.
He felt irritation befall him at that very moment. Had they turned idiot on him all of a sudden? Was he not clear enough? Didn't they hear him? He stalked to the door and pressed it open. "I said everyone, get out."
Still uncertain, his crewmen got out of their seats and skittered to the door.
Robin saw Raven still floating in the corner and he glared at her. "What? You think I want you here? You're going with them! Whatever it is you're playing at, Raven, we're talking about it later, and witch, you better tell me everything, or else help me, I will drop you off in the nearest planet and leave you there!"
Raven looked ever so slightly surprised, but to her credit, she left the room with unrivaled poise.
When his office door finally closed, he looked across the room, his blue eyes meeting with shimmering greens, and after all the years he had wondered what it would be like seeing his dear, childhood friend again; sometimes dreaming of being nine years old and teasing the great Galfore while the eight year old girl sat giggling on the side; sometimes remembering how they used to play the most interesting and engaging games, he realized, at that very moment standing in the same room with her, that he had absolutely no idea what to say.
Finally, he spoke, and it was the one thing he had managed not to say for a decade: Her name.
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"Starfire…"
He didn't know why, but it felt strange to be saying it again.
Starfire was, after all, supposedly just a childhood friend. Although their time together had been short, he remembered how much he had enjoyed her company; how, going to bed at night, he fell asleep planning the games he and Starfire would be playing the following day. He recalled how, waving goodnight to her whenever Galfore packed her off to bed, he was conscious about how another day had gone and how they were one more day closer to parting. It was a fast friendship indeed, but he supposed, having grown up and feeling compelled to explain it, he realized it was something like a childhood chemistry, an instant connection that had both of them completely convinced of one or the other's exceptional ability to make every moment worth remembering. And it had been that way.
And so in parting, there had been promises made, that they would see each other again, and when the minutes of waiting dragged into hours; and hours dragged into days; and days to weeks; weeks to months; months to years… it occurred to him that there were promises that could be broken and there were promises that simply couldn't be left to die.
At the beginning, he had lived his life with Bruce because he held an ever-constant fascination for space; he stayed and worked with Bruce because the lifestyle was every adventurous young man's dream; eventually, he left to find his own crew because he realized that there were some things he had to do on his own.
He established The Mighty Titan and its crew to fly across space. He delivered goods and transported passengers, all the while hoping that the promise would be fulfilled.
She hadn't been in Tamaran. It was the first place he looked. All he knew was that she was Tamaran's missing princess, and while he casually hinted at Bruce to get him a meeting with Starfire's family, Bruce hadn't bitten. Bruce, after all, didn't like fraternizing with clients all that much. Ultimately, the only definitive information he had was that Starfire and Blackfire hadn't been seen in Tamaran for years. Whether the family was hiding them was anyone's guess. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for someone to tell him. He was going to find out.
When after years of docking in planetary ports, space stations, meteorite colonies, moons and nebular craft-protectorates he still hadn't found who he was looking for, the promise became nothing short of a fantasy.
He was, especially of late, beginning to believe that while he wanted badly to keep the promise alive, it just might be out of his hands. It was strange, though, to feel so compelled for someone he only knew for no more than two months. It was as if something nudged, pulled and prodded every time he tried to convince himself that he was being stupid, searching for a lost playmate.
And now there she was, standing across the room looking nothing like an eight year old. It was disorienting, yet it felt oddly like he was on the brink of winning the galactic lottery.
"It has been a while." She said it softly, and he almost didn't catch it.
Still groping for words, he found himself beginning to explain. "I didn't recognize you. I had no idea—it never crossed my mind—" He hated this stammering. The main reason he told his crew and Raven to leave was because he had a feeling that he would be acting this way. He didn't want any of them seeing him so uncertain. He knew how his crew saw him; they saw him as a hard, often difficult leader who sometimes had a rough sense of humor and who always walked with an arrogant swagger. Because of it they had confidence in him; they believed his commands could save their lives, which was why they followed it. If they saw him so uncertain, they'd be as disconcerted as he was. And if Raven saw him so displaced—she probably knew it already, empath that she was, but still—she'd be on him like a shark. There was no turning one's back to the witch.
No, he could not afford his crew or Raven to see him crumbling at the sight of a woman who just happened to be a dear old friend; but with Starfirein spite of the decade that had separated them, he didn't know if he could pretend. This woman had known him as a child; had known many things about him that no one could possibly glean from the exterior he had on now. Even if he tried to pull the cloak over himself, he was uncertain if she wouldn't see right through him.
With that, he wished he could have sounded more composed.
Cherished as his memories were of the eight-year-old girl, his instinct, as a grown man speaking to a beautiful woman, was to impress, something he knew he was failing miserably at, at the moment.
She reddened, her blush visible even through her golden skin. "I was unrecognizable. There was all this mud…"
It was difficult to shake off his flustered feelings and as was his wont, a frown to mask his confusion began to form on his face. It was his natural state, after all; to look so sullen. "Did you know who I was immediately?"
She smiled. "Not at once, no. When I saw you walk in, you were just another buyer, but then that girl… the one with the golden hair."
"Terra."
"Yes. She said your name and it called my attention. I began to recognize you. H-Honestly, I was not the least bit pleased to realize that Robin, the dear, sweet boy I remembered so fondly, was into purchasing slaves. Which was why at first, I did not wish to go with you."
Her words jolted him, because they conveyed how affectionately she remembered him and how revolting she must have thought of him, seeing him walk into Lenny's store. "I wasn't—I don't buy slaves!" Again, with the stammering. He wanted to kick himself.
Starfire giggled, the sound sending another wave of memories splashing through his mind. He scowled at the warmth it brought him. He didn't realize he was so vulnerable to sentiment. The look on his face made her giggle again and he was just the slightest bit annoyed.
"I realized that, Robin. It began to dawn on me when you took the leash from Glim."
"Glim?"
"The Gordanian proprietor."
So he wasn't Lenny, after all.
"And then you spoke to me," she continued. "Your voice had changed, of course, but I recognized the look on your face; the stubborn frown. I could not understand what you were doing there at the time, but you looked so kind…"
He arched an eyebrow. Kind? That was certainly new. There were a plethora of names he had heard himself called by others, most of them unfavorable. The nicest name anyone had ever called him was "hard worker", and that really didn't go very far in the personality department, especially with the way it was said: "Robin, you're a hard worker, but that doesn't change the fact that a lot of times, it also means you're a neurotic freak." From Cyborg, no less.
He tried to process her assessment of him and found that he was slow on the uptake, he decided, instead, to get to the part that really had him floored. "What were you doing there, Starfire? What were you doing hiding in the mud at the swamp moons? I've been—I don't know, wondering… maybe even looking for you for years. Have you been a slave all this time?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You were looking for me?"
Robin fidgeted uneasily. "Well, at the beginning, it was sort of an active pursuit, but then somewhere along the way, I sort of just hoped that I'd suddenly find you in the next docking station… hell, it's been ten years…"
His words did not diminish the look of astonishment on her face. "Truly?"
He suddenly felt silly admitting it. He had never told anyone; not even Bruce. Perhaps his godfather had suspected, because as a child Robin had schemed, one way or another, to get the Mighty Gotham to dock in ports Robin thought Starfire would be in. When he assembled his crew on the Mighty Titan, scheming came even easier, but a year through his captainship, his efforts waned, and Robin was almost ready to give the search over to Fate's hands.
For Robin to admit to Starfire certain things concerning his desire to find her again was, Robin thought, a wretched lapse on his part. He could never let on that he was given to fancy: It was too unlike him.
He scowled. "Well, I was counting on seeing you again after the siege of the Mighty Gotham…"
A faraway look fell upon her eyes. "Many, many things have happened since."
"And your slavery?"
That snapped her out of her shallow reverie. "Not always a slave. I was many things."
It hardly made sense to Robin, but then there was much to tell between them. The truth was, he didn't know where to start. He began to wonder what sort of plague Raven had brought to him. Everything was happening so suddenly; so fast. He felt greatly uncertain, and he didn't like feeling he was out of his depth, but all the events that have been happening since he met Raven were well equivalent to a sucker punch to his gut.
He stood there, trying to assess whether he had lost control somehow, and if he had, how to gain that control back.
His thoughts scattered when without warning, Starfire came to him and put her arms around him in an embrace.
She sighed as she sank against him, her breath warm on his throat. "It is nice to see you again."
Robin blinked several times, unable to make a proper response. He was not a man given to affection. After his parents' death, he grew detached and unemotional, traits that were only reinforced by his godfather who seemed even more solitary and unfeeling than he was. His friendships, though real, were comfortable in a sense that his friends—his crew—knew his boundaries and limitations. They didn't push; they didn't expect more. So while he was good with friends, his intimate relations with women suffered. When they began to complain about how cold he was out of bed, he responded with a squeamish look, a retreat—, physical or otherwise ("I have something I have to do," or "I need a drink.")—and then later a definitive statement, usually after a reasonable amount of alcohol, along the lines of, "See, the thing is, I'm like this. Can't you—like, live with that?" Of course, they couldn't. It didn't matter if the woman was an Earthling or an alien species. The need to be close was a universal thing.
Dumping him inevitably followed. Suffice it to say, the closest thing he suffered to a heartbreak was an ulcer, and the ulcer wasn't exactly caused by stress from relationships failed; he just had unmanageable amounts of stomach acid.
At the moment, he realized that there was absolutely nothing repulsive about putting his arms around a beautiful Tamaranian princess. It was a positive thing in all respects, but thoughts of Starfire in the past had never included anything along such lines. There was no hugging; certainly no kissing and definitely no sex.
Even now, evident as it was that she was a well-developed woman of eighteen, the concept of anything more intimate than holding hands with her was foreign to him; strange. He remembered her as a child, and possibly, he would never be able to get past that.
He cleared his throat, gently peeling himself away from her. She blinked, looking a bit surprised. "Are you hungry? We have a decent stock of insta-food in the pantry. We'll pop some open for you. We could talk in the mess hall—"
She began to giggle.
Robin arched an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"
She smiled. "You have changed little. I used to have such a crush on you; you were my hero! And you would sense that I liked you and you would pout and be petulant. You did not want me to like you that way!" She fell to giggling again.
He reddened momentarily. "I was nine."
Starfire grinned and arched an eyebrow. "And you have grown up?" She closed the distance between them, as if to test-answer her own question.
"Well," he muttered, stifling the urge to step away. He may be aloof, but even more than that, he was fiercely competitive in all things, and he wasn't going to let her scare him. "That was the plan."
A bubbly laugh escaped her and she rose into the air, swooping behind him to slip her arms around him. It shocked him to feel her lips on his ear as she whispered "You saved me, Robin, so that makes you my hero all over again!"
The contact was still disconcerting, but he decided that resisting it openly only seemed to encourage her even more. He looked over his shoulder at her, a motion that allowed him to get his ear away from the ticklish breath feathering it. "And you saved us. We're all even, so—"
A sparkle in her eyes literally arrested him, and it was the only warning she gave. Her lips were on his in a second; pressing; coaxing. He didn't stand a chance. He didn't know what he was feeling, because it was a kiss like no other. It shut his mind to cognitive thought; soft lips, prying tongue; and it absolutely stripped him of control. He supposed he found himself giving in to the seduction just before he ran into a lounge chair and stumbled back, feet over head.
He yelled as she gave a cry of dismay, and capable as she was of flight, she still chose to fall on him, knocking the breath out of his lungs as floor and her crushed him.
It did, however, knock some sense into him. Gasping, he hurriedly pushed her off him and struggled to get up.
She gave a cry of complaint when she spilled, butt first.
He got to his feet and looked at her incredulously. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Wha—are you nuts?"
Starfire pouted, getting up and stamping her foot. "You pushed me!"
"Well, you kissed me!"
"I usually get a better reception when I do that!"
"Yeah, I bet!" He tried his best to straighten himself, pulling his clothes this way and that.
She scowled, rubbing her sore behind. "Besides, it was not as if you were not kissing back!"
Robin ruffled his hair in irritation. "I'm a guy! Of course I would kiss you back! Christ almighty, I am so not going to get into this sort of shit with you. Look, don't do that. I don't know what you were planning to do pulling that shit on me, but just back off. You're ei—" He stopped himself before he could say anything more. It would sound galactically stupid, of course, to say that she was supposed to be eight years old and that it was wrong to be doing such things with him, even if it was indeed the very reason he was feeling particularly uncomfortable about the whole thing.
He was confused, and no matter how many times he'd woken up in bed, regretful of having slept with a strange woman who just happened to be sleeping beside him that morning, one never got used to that all-encompassing feeling that for having slept with her, he had shit for brains. He may have only kissed Starfire, but it felt nearly like that awful morning after. "It's nice to see you again and all, but I wasn't that thrilled."
"Hmph! Could've fooled me."
He reddened, but it did not faze him. "Listen, I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to walk out that door and I'm going to talk to Raven—" His ulcer spiked and he grit his teeth. Generally, his ulcers were mild as long as he took his medication, it hardly ever bothered him, but on occasion, when his stress-levels rose, it made its presence known more distinctly. He strode over to his desk, pulled open a drawer and drew out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol Plus. He slammed his drawer shut and began to unscrew the bottle's cap. "I swear you women are going to kill me one of these days. We'll talk later, Starfire. And please, if you can, don't make it any harder for me." Another pinch turned his guts and he groaned. He drank down a shot of the pink, viscous liquid. It was supposed to be cherry flavored, but the cherries must have gone bad in the processing. Face screwed in pain, he strode out of his office and barreled into his crew who had their ears practically pressed to the door.
There was no need for him to ask what they were doing.
"You guys are such losers," he muttered, pushing past them.
Cyborg was on his heels in a second. Having known Robin the longest, he wasn't afraid of being made to scrub the deck for being nosy. "It's her, isn't it? That childhood sweetheart you were telling me about in Euphorix SP."
Robin scowled. "I didn't say she was my childhood sweetheart."
"What a babe! Was she always that good-lookin'?"
"She was eight! God! Doesn't anyone understand that?"
"Well, she don't look like eight anymore, that's for sure. So what'd she say?"
Robin shot Cyborg a withering glance. "Don't pretend you weren't eavesdropping."
"Well, we couldn't hear everything. So, was she a good kisser?"
Robin groaned when his gut wrenched again. He took more Pepto-Bismol and he had to wonder if anyone ever O.D.-ed on bismuth subsalicylate. He imagined himself floating in a pool of pink vomit in some seedy, Lulean motel room, bottles of empty Pepto-Bismol scattered around him. Bruce would be shaking his head above his body, telling the cops that it had only been a matter of time, really. Robin found the image to be dismally funny; he always thought he had a twisted sense of humor.
Wincing at the God-awful taste, Robin strode out of the bridge. He felt for the communicator in his belt but didn't find it. He figured he must have left it in his office. "Find the witch for me, will you? I don't have my communicator on me."
Cyborg accessed his communicator and had Raven on the monitor in seconds. "Yo, where you at?"
"I'm in the library. Why?"
Cyborg raised a questioning eyebrow at Robin.
"I'll see her there," said Robin, leading the way down the hall in the direction of the library. "You could come with if you want."
Cyborg looked back at her through the mini-monitor on his arm. "Stay there. We'll be there in two minutes."
"Am I in trouble?"
"I don't know. Robin?"
"Tell her to shut the fuck up and just wait for us."
Cyborg considered it for a second and nodded, looking to the monitor again. "You'll be fine."
"Great. I'm looking forward to it already."
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Robin strode into the library and saw Raven floating in the corner holding a book up to her face. Without asking, he took the book and snapped it shut.
She complained but he ignored it, sitting himself on one of the two compact lounge chairs in deadly calm.
Cyborg, having been too entertained since Robin told him and the others to get out of his office, didn't want to miss a thing. He remained standing, watching the scene with great interest.
The library wasn't all that big. It was merely a ten by seven foot room, lined wall to wall with shelves, most of which were filled with books that Robin had read and hand-picked through out his travels. There was a moving platform that gave access to the higher shelves. At the center of the room, between the lounge chairs, was a reading lamp and a tiny coffee table. The carpeted floor muffled footsteps and made it comfortable enough for sitting if the reader wanted to be more bohemian.
Until Raven came along, Robin wasn't used to having someone else in the room with him. If his crew members were ever in the library, it was when he wasn't. All in all, he found the room absolutely comfortable and there was no way Raven was going to agitate him while he was there. At least that's what he thought.
"Witch," he said, putting the Pepto-Bismol gently on the coffee table. He smiled brightly. "I want to know what the fuck is going on and I want to know now. And don't even think about lying. I'm very volatile right at this moment. Do you see this smile on my face? I read in an anger-management article somewhere that it suppresses violent tendencies. As you can see, I'm smiling my ass off."
Raven at least looked like she believed him. She cleared her throat. "Well, there's a lot to tell, honestly. I don't know where to begin—"
"Let's start with Starfire. You knew I knew her and you knew she would recognize me. I'm the reason she saved us in the first place. As much as I'd like to think that this is all just a product of your natural talent to screw-up the lives of ordinary people like us, I couldn't help but wonder just how much you know and exactly when you started manipulating us."
Raven frowned. She glowed darkly for a few heartbeats before she settled back down to her normal aura. "There are things in this universe, captain, that your inter-dimensional orientation does not allow you to fathom, and frankly, you should count yourself fortunate for it. What you call manipulation is a product of cosmic forces working to ensure that life, as we know it, would continue to exist. If you want to oversimplify the workings of the enlightened by calling it manipulation, then fine, go ahead, but don't think you know everything, captain, because you don't. You don't know shit."
Robin tapped his fingers on the cover of the book on his lap. "Fine. Could you tell these enlightened freaks that it's rude to butt into other people's lives without asking them first? Because you know, I would've said no!"
Raven's lips tautened to a line, her eyes falling on the Pepto-Bismol bottle. "You're not ready for me to tell you everything. Just now, you didn't believe a single thing I said. You only see me now as client who's paying you peanuts and getting you into ulcer-inducing situations."
"Among other things."
"Well, in any case, don't act as if you absolutely hate the fact that I've brought your old childhood sweetheart back into your arms."
Robin tried not to lose his temper. "For the last time… Starfire is not my childhood sweetheart!" He gritted his teeth but managed to calm himself. "Maybe it's nice to see her again, but on your part, don't pretend you did this out of the kindness of your heart. There's a reason you brought her to me."
"You'll know what that reason is, in due time. Anyway, if I tell you now, who knows what kind of catastrophe that might bring?"
"You mean you're not through using us."
"Call it whatever you want."
Cyborg suddenly cleared his throat to get their attention. "Look here, I don't think I like being used."
Raven frowned. "You're in the business of providing service, genius. You get used all the time."
"I usually get paid well to give service, bitch. Besides, I don't like obliging the cosmic forces. As far as I could tell, they've been nothing but a pain in the ass."
"Look, if it makes you dickheads feel any better, I'm part of the equation too. Like you, I was drawn to this fate."
Robin scoffed. "Please. Let's say I believe this crap you're telling me about cosmic forces and fate: You may not have had a choice, but how many years have you known? Twelve years? You said something like that before we went to Thelsor-Con. I heard you."
Raven thought for a second before responding. "Actually, I've known ever since I could remember…"
Robin rolled his eyes. "So you've had time to reflect on this. Maybe you've even embraced your destiny." He paused and muttered, "I can't believe I'm saying this," after which he continued his original thread. "We didn't even get two-week's notice. How did you think we were going to take it?"
"I did promise you riches, didn't I?"
Robin exchanged weary looks with Cyborg. "Cy, should I tell her what's painfully obvious, or would you like to do the honors?"
"I got this, bro. Raven, you don't have the riches! Your words mean nothing to us! Especially after the things you've done to get us to do this."
For a second, Raven looked like she was going to stick her lower lip out in a petulant pout, but she didn't. "How is it different from the way your other clients pay you? They give you a down payment and then you make the delivery, hoping they'd have the money to pay the rest of the bill when you get to port."
Robin shook his head. "It's way different, Raven. We do credit checks on all of our clients and they have stellar credit-scores. They have guarantors and sureties, and if by some act of God, they couldn't come up with the money in spite of all that, we get to keep their goods. Whatever happens, so long as we deliver their goods in perfect order, we get paid, one way or another. You popped out of nowhere like a galactic zit. We don't know shit about you and so far, your purchasing power sucks like a mother fucking black hole. And what cargo do we get to keep? Starfire? We don't need a slave on this ship. We don't even want one. Morally, it's abhorrent. Financially, it's a bother; another mouth to feed. Are you feeling me here?"
Raven turned her gaze away from him, and it actually looked as if she had no words to tell him off, but that was hoping for too much. "Look, those are matters of material worth, after all. While at this point, I understand why that's important to you, try to look forward. In the next few months, I might be able to give to you the riches of the galaxy, but consider this: What use will those riches give you if there's no galaxy to enjoy it with?"
Robin's sigh of frustration turned into a growl. He got to his feet, tossing aside Raven's book and taking the Pepto-Bismol. "You're completely crazy! And the sad thing is I'm even crazier for letting you tell us what to do. Forget about jettisoning you in space; I ought to jettison myself." He ruffled his hair, irritably. "In any case, it's not your promises of 'riches' that compels me to do this. We had a deal, and after all's said and done, even if you were the reason Cy and I got thrown in jail, you got us out and the police aren't after us… though that last debacle in Thelsor-Con may have well made me and Terra fugitives…"
Raven shook her head. "Even merchants at Thelsor-Con won't kick up a galactic fuss for one hundred Karnan decs. They wanted to beat the shit out of us back there, that's for sure, but since we got away and since Lenny has five hundred real Karnan decs, Lenny ought to be happy enough after he's cooled off."
"Glim."
"What?"
"Lenny's name is actually Glim."
"And how did you know that?"
"I just do. I'm done here. This banter is boring me, but this doesn't mean I won't ask you about all this again." He turned to leave, realizing bitterly that his luck at getting answers that day was nil. "You staying, Cy?"
Cyborg looked surprised he even asked it. "Hell, no."
Robin and Cyborg walked out of the library, neither looking back as they stepped out on the hallway and the library doors closed behind them.
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Robin leaned his elbows on the railing on deck, the Euphorix stargate thirty minutes behind them. They were just cruising now. Cyborg needed some time to do his engineering duties and Robin wasn't about to hurry him up. He liked cruising in open, un-hostile space. Vega's commercial district was especially entertaining to watch, and seeing it from the diagonally-shaped gamma-glass that enclosed the Mighty Titan's deck, it was an amazing sight.
He thought about the last two days and it made him sigh, exasperated. The Gods were mocking him. It was like they had been listening when they complained about him being bored with his life, and thus offended, they afflicted him with Raven who had managed to have him accused of drug possession, thrown in jail, broken out of prison, battle roughies in Karnan space, deal for slaves, escape a lynch mob in Thelsor-Con, fight off Thelsor-Con Peacekeepers and hightail out of Karna, not to mention having Starfire on his ship; all within a span of forty-eight hours. Never has the adage "Be careful what you wish for," held more meaning for him.
Just the thought that he would be spending the next week or so with Raven was exhausting.
He wondered momentarily if Bruce had ever had to deal with this sort of thing. Flying with Bruce and Alfred on the Mighty Gotham had been filled with adventure: fighting roughies and dealing with troublesome women. It had always been about fun and romance; a bit of danger to spice it. He had never been thrown in jail; he never felt like he wanted to strangle the women; he had never been framed for any kind of crime. It never, until now, occurred to him, that maybe he had been getting the best parts of the adventure, and that Bruce might have been filtering the worse of it. His godfather had been such a solitary man, and ever since the misadventure with the Tamaranian royal family, Bruce seemed to have doubled precautionary measures. They still got in fixes, but they never had to evacuate the ship again.
His gaze fell on the distant star of Tamaran, winking nondescriptly. If he hadn't known any better, it looked just like any other ordinary star, but ever since he knew Starfire, that blinking dot in the vast sea of space was Tamaran, Starfire's home planet.
He wondered, for the first time in a long time, about what happened so long ago that day the Mighty Gotham was boarded. Honestly, when Robin rode off in the escape pod with Alfred, and Bruce's comatose body, he thought he would never see the ship again, but twenty four hours after they left the ship, Alfred flew back in the hopes of finding it again. Alfred did find the ship, and it was intact, perhaps gone of a few major parts, but it hadn't been cannibalized so much that it wasn't salvageable. Eventually, the Mighty Gotham was back in full-repair, improved by upgrades and even more dazzling with its fresh coat of mercury-finish.
When Robin asked Bruce what he remembered that night while alone in the bridge, Bruce reluctantly admitted that he was merely doing a routine check of the controls, after which he blacked out. He didn't know if someone had knocked him out from behind or whether someone had put something in the vents to gas him to sleep. Getting Bruce to say as much had been no simple task on Robin's part. Ultimately, it meant a lapse on Bruce's instincts, so getting Bruce to say anything on the matter had taken a lot of figurative arm-twisting.
The next question on the agenda: What happened to the sisters?
He would ask Starfire, of course, but she had seemed reluctant enough to talk about any of it. Of course, they only talked for five minutes, and half the time had been spent arguing with her about the stupidest things.
He winced. Women.
When he went back to the bridge after his conversation with Raven, Beast Boy said that Terra had offered to show Starfire to her room.
It hadn't been lost on Robin that Terra took to the new arrival better than she had their previous guest, but that was a trivial matter. When Terra returned to her post, she said that Starfire had happily taken to bed, passing out a mere seconds after she plopped on the mattress.
Terra seemed to like Starfire well enough, and of course, Beast Boy was just as taken. Cyborg, who knew next to nothing about Starfire, would save his opinions for later.
Robin let Starfire have her sleep. After all, she couldn't have gotten much sleep being sold as a slave. She needed her rest.
Now, five hours later, he supposed he'd given himself and Starfire enough time to regroup and perhaps they could actually finish a discussion. He still couldn't believe that after ten years, give or take another five hours, since he bought her from Thelsor-Con, they had only managed to get in two and a half-minutes of decent conversation.
He reached for his communicator and his hand grasped nothing. It's still in your office.
Robin scowled. Things were definitely getting to him. On a regular day, he wouldn't be forgetting his communicator. He gave the galaxy one last affectionate look before he began his search for his Tamaranian friend.
He took the hallways and elevator to the bridge. As he walked through the bridge doors, he saw his entire crew at their posts, but before he could address Terra, Cyborg was on him, reporting the ship's engineering status.
"We need a couple o' new plasma cells. We burnt one out and another's on the brink," he said.
Robin actually took the time to be upset about it. Plasma cells weren't cheap, but they were important, so he had to make the purchase anyway. "That's gonna hurt."
Cyborg nodded. "Yeah, but I know a merchant in the Gryphia craft-protectorate who could give us the cells at a cheaper price. We have to go now if we wanna catch him. He closes early and he sells for no one past store hours."
Robin stifled a sigh. Pragmatic as he was, he found himself giving in to sentiment at that moment: He had to talk to Starfire; it had been put off long enough. "You'll have to go to this merchant by yourself, Cy. I've got some things to do on the ship. I'll give you the money…" He dove into his pockets for his transaction card, speaking to Cyborg in a distracted tone. "Let me put some credits in your card… where the hell did I put my…"
Patting himself down, Robin began searching in places he never would have considered putting his trans-card in, twisting and turning his body parts with growing panic.
Beast Boy watched him. "Er, dude? Are you having a fit…?"
"No, stupid! I can't find my trans-card! Where the fuck—"
Robin looked up, a stupefied expression on his face. Scenes from his earlier meeting with Starfire flashed like a disjointed memory in his mind; the way she pressed against him, the way he had been too confused to notice if maybe her hand had dipped into his surcoat… or moved to his belt to take his communicator…
It seemed his luck with women in the last two days had been nothing short of disastrous.
He curled his hand into a tight fist and he took deep breaths to control his rising temper. Teeth grit, he turned to Terra who began to look the slightest bit afraid upon seeing the expression on his face. "Terra, I want you to call my communicator and trace it. I want to know where the fuck Starfire is and I want to know now!"
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Reflections of Robin: Between one woman putting things in my pocket and another taking things out of them, I wonder why I even fucking bother to own anything…
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To be continued…
Author's notes: Thank you all for reading this story! I'm glad you like it. I'm really having a fantastic time writing this. You guys rock!
For all of you who guessed what "5742" meant, your 1337-n355 20x! Haha! For those who speak normal English, let me break it down for you:
5 is S; 7 is T; 4 is A; 2 is R;
Therefore, "5742" is "STAR"
It's leet; PC-slang for "elite". Normally, I don't write 1337, but it was such fun to use for this story. Like I said, it's not really all that important. I needed a number to call Starfire, and I figured, why not 1337 it?
Another reader asked me what their ages in this story are. Here 'tis:
Robin is 19
Cyborg is 21
Terra is 17
Beast Boy is 17
Raven's age shall be deemed "unknown" for this story.
Starfire is 18